One in One Thousand
by Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: Destiel Trojan War AU. Dean and Castiel have grown up together, and have always seen each other as something...more than friends, even if they've never been able to say it aloud. This is interrupted, however, by the declaration of war on the city of Troy, and their lives are changed forever. NO CHARACTER DEATH. Rated M for smut and language, loose inspiration from Homeric texts.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Kay so this is my Trojan War AU fic thing. I basically got the idea when me and my friend were joking about how the Ancient Greeks used Olive Oil for lube, because we're immature. So yeah, Cain if you're reading this, THIS IS WHAT I WAS TELLING YOU ABOUT. Named 'One in One Thousand' after the Christopher Marlowe quote about Helen of Troy: 'The face that launched a thousand ships'. Hope you like! It's pretty weird.**

* * *

One in One Thousand

**FIVE YEARS AGO**

_Ships entering the harbour, disturbing the peaceful ocean that surrounded the island kingdom. Two young men, aged 17 and 18, clad in soft tunics, running through the orchards in the palace gardens and laughing as they battled one another, wooden sword against blunted spear. _

_The taller boy, a handsome, muscular young man with emerald eyes and ash blonde hair, suddenly loses his balance, tripping over backwards into soft grass that matched the shade of his eyes. He pulled on the arm of his companion as he fell, a shorter boy with messy dark hair and eyes that matched the colour of the sea that was about to disturb their tranquillity. With a huff of surprise, the 17 year old landed on his friend, and they were nose to nose. Time stood still as the sunlight – muted by the blooming trees that surrounded them – skittered its way across their faces, and each was suddenly struck with just how __**right**__ it felt to lie like that, staring into the other's eyes. The world faded away, and neither boy moved. _

_Just as it seemed they were about to draw closer, horns sounded in the distance, and they were shocked back into reality._

_It was the horns that signified that they were at war._

* * *

**NOW**

Dean grunted as he rolled over in his sleep, the movement causing him to fall out of his (for lack of a better word) bed and land on the hardened ground.

_What time is it?_

He looked outside, and noted that the sun hadn't even dared to show its face over the cloudless ocean horizon, and groaned.

There was a soft laugh to his left, and he looked over to see Castiel sitting by the smouldering remains of the campfire from last night, smiling at him warmly.

"You're up unusually early, Dean. I remember a time when you would sleep until Apollo was at his highest point in the sky at the earliest."

"Shut up, Cas," Dean mumbled, ignoring the familiar swoop in his stomach that happened every time he met Castiel's stupidly blue eyes. He spoke without any malice, however, and his gaze softened into a smile as he awkwardly clambered out of his tent and sat next to his best friend. They both disregarded the goosebumps that erupted at the proximity, and stared across the water of the Hellespont in silence. The once pristine bay the Greek army was camped in was now covered in dirty tents and the remains of campfires, huge ships that they were thankfully able to see over due to the location of their cluster of tents, and of course the dead, blackened wood in the part of the beach where they had mass funeral pyres for the dead soldiers.

"Strange, isn't it?" Castiel murmured, not taking his eyes off the peaceful carnage that lay before them.

Dean turned to look at him, not at all noticing how the rising sun bounced off Castiel's face and made him appear...

_Godlike._

Dean cast aside the blasphemous thought quickly and realised that Castiel was waiting for him to speak. He still hadn't looked at him, but Dean just _knew_, with the knowledge that comes when you've known someone your entire life.

"What's strange, Cas?"

"Strange that you and I….would come so far from home. We used to pretend to fight, mock battles, do you remember? And now, we are fighting for our lives in a war over a woman whom we have never seen, and never will. It's just strange that we have come so far from what we once were, and yet we still are friends, and we have not died yet."

With these words, Castiel turned to Dean, smiling, skin glowing from the rising sun. Dean was struck speechless at the sight and had to clear his throat several times before responding, "Of course I remember, Cas. You're my best friend. Known you since your mother came in to be my nurse, and she brought you along. Feel kinda bad for ditching Sammy for you sometimes, though," here he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, "and dude, of course I'm still your friend. I'll always be here for you, man, and even if I die I'm coming back from Hades just so you won't be alone."

He smiled and looked back across the harbour so he wouldn't blush, completely missing the way Castiel looked at him with his eyes shining in wonder.

"Thank you, Dean."

* * *

It was another long, bloody day of fighting, screaming and dying for the Greek army, as the arrows from the walls of Troy rained down upon them. From where he grappled with a faceless warrior, Dean could see the golden armour of Achilles as he tore down every man that dared opposed him, radiating a divine heat from within.

Dean and Castiel knew all about being more than regular mortals. Dean and Sam's mother was never spoken of, having left their father Ioannes to raise them alone. All they really knew was that she had been an immortal, powerful goddess, who Ioannes had fallen desperately in love with before she abruptly disappeared the night of Sam's 6-month birthday. Sam had no memories of his mother, but Dean did. He could recall an immeasurably beautiful face, ethereal blonde hair, and shimmering green eyes – features so like his own it was small wonder Ioannes preferred Sam (though he tried to hide it) – smiling at him. A voice softly whispering in his ear "the gods are watching over you, Dean," and the lightest of kisses caressing his forehead.

That memory was often the only thing that helped Dean get to sleep at night. In fact, it was all that got him to sleep now, otherwise he was kept up at night, haunted by the faces of all the men he had killed, or friends who had died before him, screaming for him to save them.

Which he couldn't do.

And no matter how much he and Sam had pestered their father, the true identity of their mother, the brief queen of their island kingdom, remained unknown.

Castiel could relate. His father was some god, and his mother the caregiver of the princes after their mother had left. He had been raised with the boys, and he and Dean knew each other like the backs of their hands – like the backs of each other's hands, in fact. Castiel's father, however, hadn't bothered to stay with his mother for longer than a night. Castiel had no memories of his father, and he didn't care to find out anything else. Neither of the two older boys had had any powers manifest due to godly parentage, but Sam…..Sam could influence the emotions of those around him. At first, he didn't even realise he was doing it, and when he discovered it, he was horrified. He did it as little as possible, only using it to soften his father's anger towards Dean, or beg a snack off the cook. Little, harmless things that only worked in their favour.

Still scared the crap out of Dean, though.

He did his best to raise Sam, keeping him and Ioannes as distant as possible to protect Sam, but sometimes he just needed to escape. Get away from the duties he had as a prince, the responsibility he felt for Sam, and the festering pain that still lingered from the abandonment of his mother.

So he and Castiel grew closer. His one true friend, and the only one who could relate to both Dean and Sam. Dean's best friend, and the person whom Dean knew he could count on to have his back in a fight.

_Shit._

At that thought, Dean finished off the guy he was fighting with a pang of remorse, adding his face to the list of the damned in his mind, and looked round for Castiel. There he was, disposing of some huge dark-skinned guy who Dean vaguely knew from when they had been trading partners with Troy. Gordon or something.

_Dick._

"CAS! FINISH HIM!" he yelled, completely oblivious to the ongoing battle surrounding him and focusing purely on whether or not Cas would be okay. Gordon, distracted, looked up, and Castiel sliced his head off cleanly.

Dean opened his mouth, but before he could get any words out, there was loud _thunk_ and the world went black. As he hurtled into unconsciousness, he thought he heard a gravelly voice scream "_DEAN!"_

* * *

A dull, throbbing pain at the base of his skull. That was the only thing that was real, right now. Dean's lips were dry and cracked, and his throat was so parched he half thought he'd become a beach, but he spoke anyway.

"Cas?"

A snort answered him.

"Real focused on that lover of yours, aren't we Prince?"

_Female. Annoying. Greek?_

"Water," he croaked. "Please"

Cool, refreshing water was poured down his throat mercilessly, practically choking him, but he gladly gulped it down anyway.

"Thank you. Where am I?"

"You're in Troy, Dean-O. You're a prisoner, and they're going to use you to win this war even if it bleeds you dry"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dean demanded harshly, finally sitting up and taking stock of where he was.

_Gods of Olympus…._

A small, poorly lit room greeted him, the damp stone walls reflecting the flickering candle light. Eyes watched him from the gloom, taking in his destroyed appearance.

He turned to the closest figure, who had been the one speaking to him.

"What do you mean, they're gonna _use_ me? And where in Hades is Cas?"

* * *

**AN: I'm uploading this all at once, but reviews would be, you know, awesome.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: I actually meant this to be a lot shorter than it is, so it's kinda slow paced and stuff.**

* * *

Chapter Two

The figure moved closer to Dean, and features were thrown into sharp relief. A young woman, with a sly smile, dark brown eyes and darker hair was staring at him intently.

"You really don't care about what's going to happen to _you_, do you?" She asked.

"Who the Hell are you?!"

"Megara. But you can call me Meg," she smirked. Dean scowled at her.

"What's going on, 'Meg'?"

"You're a prisoner, like the rest of us. You're going to be tortured and forced to reveal information about Greek attacks"

"But I'm just a soldier! I just follow the orders! I don't know jackshit about Menelaus' plans!"

"Well in that case they're going to extract all your powers and use them to help win this stupid war!" Meg spat at him.

Dean, confused, stared at her dumbly.

"What…what powers?"

"Well, they only spare those who are demigods, those who have inherited some form of godlike power from their parent, so they can somehow use this to their advantage," came the response.

_The fuck..? I'm not…I know Mother was….but…..I'm normal._

"I don't have any powers. I don't know any secrets. What I do know, Meg, is that I am getting out of here and I am getting back to my friend!"

"Yeah. Good luck with _that_. And are you sure you're just….friends? Sounded a hell of a lot more interesting from what you were saying in your sleep"

Dean didn't answer.

_So I'm a prisoner now. Fucking peachy._

* * *

_One month later_

Castiel opened the flap to his tent silently and looked around. The glare of the full moon caused a harsh spotlight in some places, and total black in others. He slipped soundlessly through the shadows, hand on the sword at his side. No one stirred as he passed, and some magic – Castiel preferred to believe in his own skills at subterfuge – prevented the sentries from detecting him as he crept past.

Sneaking into the city of Troy on a one man rescue mission was apparently ridiculously easy.

* * *

Dean lay in his cell, alone. He'd been removed from the other prisoners, and he was left to sift through his increasingly depressing thoughts. The head torturer, Alastair, had found him trying to escape, and the subsequent punishment that had happened less than an hour previously had been the worst so far.

Blood leaked from the wounds that lacerated his body, and his vision blurred from the effort of not merely falling into an eternal unconsciousness.

"All you have to do is say yes, Dean…..just agree to help us out, and this will stop," Alastair's whispers plagued his mind, and although it had only been a month, Dean had lost all hope of getting out, let alone of ever seeing his family again.

_Or Cas._

That was one thought he refused to dwell on. If he thought about Cas, Dean knew he would go insane.

Dean knew he'd had more than his fair share of women, while Cas was simply….there. It wasn't as if Cas was unattractive, hell it was the opposite, but Cas just wasn't interested.

Relationships between men were commonplace, but Cas was _JUST A FRIEND. _The mere thought of examining exactly how he felt towards the man who was present in every single memory Dean had contained enough terror to send a pack of Gorgons to the other side of the world.

Dean didn't do feelings, period. He slept with women, he liked it, end of story. Just because the only guy – scratch that, person – he could ever see himself having a relationship with was the most freaking perfect human to walk the planet and totally out of his league….it didn't mean they couldn't still be friends, right?

_If I ever get out of here._

And his throat closed up, and tears pricked behind his eyelids that had been forced shut from the pain of both what Alastair had done to him and the thoughts of Castiel.

For the first time in his life, Dean prayed, and meant it.

"Mother? I…shit, I don't know if you're out there, or where you are, or _who_ you are, but please. I'm begging you. Help me out of here. Even if you can't, even if I die here, tell Castiel what happened to me, get him home safely. Let this war end, so Cas can go home and look after Sammy and Father. Please. Forget me living, just save him," he begged, tears finally spilling over and making fresh tracks in the grime and blood that covered his face.

"Aw, how sweet. Missing your lover boy, Dean?" A nasal voice purred at the door. Dean gathered the energy to turn his head to see the owner of the voice, the far too familiar clench in his stomach confirming what he already knew.

Alastair was back for more.

* * *

Castiel had no idea how his luck had held so far. He'd been able to enter Troy through a water supply pipe, and was now slinking through the back alleys of Troy, attempting to disguise his armour with a stolen cloak. He noted where the sentries patrolled more thoroughly, and surmised that if he were to find Dean, that would be his safest bet.

He broke cover, and marched over to the nearest guard as if he owned the place. The man saluted, and before he realised what was happening, Castiel had a blade pressed to his throat.

"_Where. Are. The. Greeks. Held?"_ he snarled into the guard's ear, and had his pressed against the wall in complete shadow. "_Tell me, and you might just survive this war intact"_

The guard was silent. Castiel sighed, and muttered "I am not here to hurt you. I wish to find my friend, leave, and never return. We want no part in this war, and I am truly sorry that it has come to this. If you value your life, please tell me where they are holding Prince Dean."

The captive relaxed.

"If you truly mean what you say…..wait, you're looking for_ that_ Prince?"

Castiel nodded. "Why, what is it?"

"They gave him straight to Alastair. The worst torturer. He'll be close to death by now, if not already dead."

"_WHERE IS HE?" _Castiel hissed frantically, almost killing the man in his haste.

"Go down the alleyway and turn left. Across the courtyard, down the stairs. Be careful, there are guards everywhere," the man said, not entirely sure why he was telling Castiel all of this.

"Thank you. What is your name?"

"Inias"

"May the gods watch over you eternally, Inias"

And with that, Castiel took off, undetected and protected once more by the cover of night.

* * *

Luckily, he found himself in the right area with minimum fuss. In fact, if he stopped to think about it, his luck had been a little too good that night. Before he could ponder that thought anymore as he raced past cells, looking desperately for Dean, a sultry voice spoke from nearby.

"Don't worry too much, it'll be your dad's magic"

Castiel, despite his panic, stopped.

"My what?"

"Your father's powers are what is protecting you, Cassie. So don't worry about it."

"Where is Dean?"

The mysterious girl smiled.

"Tell me!"

"Oh, I'll tell you….for a price"

"What price?"

"A kiss from you, you handsome devil"

Castiel visibly blanched, and the girl snorted.

"Just wanted to see your reaction, sweetheart. Dean's thattaway –" and here she pointed "-so good luck"

Castiel gave her a small smile.

"He's alive?" He asked, wanting more than ever to run and find and save Dean.

"Yes!"

"How do you know?!"

"I've got the Sight, genius. It's why they've got me here. I can see and know everyone's secrets, and they want to break anyone with power to win this stupid war. Now go and find your boyfriend, dumbass, before it's too late!"

Her last words were directed at Castiel's retreating back as he took off down the passageway.

"WHAT'S YOUR NAME?" He bellowed over his shoulder.

"MEG" She screamed back, knowing the protection offered by Castiel's father would ensure that nobody heard their exchange.

* * *

Dean shook with fear as the chief torturer stepped forward, eyes glinting so that the candlelight reflected oddly off them and caused them to appear totally black. He unlocked the cell door and stepped inside, holding the exquisitely crafted torturing knives at his sides.

"Dean, Dean, Dean, when will you learn? You're going to die here, _Prince,_ and the rest of your little Greek army is going to be torn apart. We're going to use you to destroy all your little friends, and just to make it all the sweeter, when we get to your boyfriend? We're going to kill him, slowly and in the most excruciating way possible, and I'm going to do it myself, just so I can see the light fade from his pretty blue eyes as I tell him just how much you love him, and how much of a coward you are for failing him and everyone in the Greek army."

"Nice idea," a voice mused from behind the Trojan, "but you forgot something."

And with that, Alastair's entire body went rigid, the tip of a knife protruding from where his heart lay. The dead man collapsed to the ground and behind him, like an angel in armour, glowing from within despite the sweat and mud caked all over his body and clutching a now—dripping knife and panting, was Castiel.

* * *

**AN: I love Greek myths and stuff. That's basically it? I'm just a huge nerd about mythology and stuff in general? Yeah**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Dean sat up, not believing what he saw.

"Cas?"

_Have I finally gone mad?_

The vision – for he had decided that it was a vision, because nothing like this would ever actually happen to him, Dean, the one that fucked everything up – smiled. Granted, it was a lot more vivid than the last hallucination Dean had had of Cas, with a lot less nudity, and he was awake this time.

"Dean, come on. We have to go. I'm not sure how much longer this….blessing shall last."

"Cas, come on man we've been over this. I can't actually leave here, and neither can you. Stop mocking me when I know you're just in my head."

With a great deal of pain and difficulty, Dean rolled over to face the wall.

Castiel's heart sank as he realised that Dean didn't believe he was real, and he reeled back as he saw the full extent of what Alastair had done to Dean. Thick, deep stripes of red criss crossed over the muscular back that Castiel had fantasised for so long about, covering the black unhealed scars that were there from earlier tortures. Faded and newly made burns were everywhere, and scabs that had not received any Healer attention were cracked and peeling.

He felt his heart break, and he reached out to place a hand on Dean, before retracting it out of the fear that Dean would react badly to a…"hallucination" actually touching him.

"Dean, look at me," he begged. Dean rolled over.

"You're still here," he breathed in wonder.

"Of course I am, Dean, because I am entirely real. Please believe me, we have to go."

Dean sat up, not breaking eye contact, and Castiel had a flashback to a sunlit orchard, of a warm summer breeze, and of being pulled down forcefully so that he was chest to chest with his best friend, before Dean spoke.

"Prove it."

Castiel reached out his hand again slowly.

"Dean, please do no hate me for this"

And he leaned in closer and closer to Dean, his heart beating erratically, until they were nose to nose like they had been that day in the orchard, staring into the others eyes. He felt rather than heard Dean's breath catch, and whispered to him.

"Remember that day in the orchard? When we heard the call to war? I always regretted not being able to do one thing, and I thought you had died before I could tell you. I'm telling you now, Dean"

Dean shuddered as his warm breath caressed his lips, and he involuntarily licked his lips, his eyes asking the unspoken question _telling me what?_

And Castiel closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Dean's.

He meant it to be a quick kiss, a reassurance to Dean that he was actually there, but before he could pull away a shaking hand reached up, tangling itself in his messy hair, and holding him in place. Dean moaned as he opened his mouth, tenderly brushing Castiel's cheek with a bruised and bloodied knuckle, and Castiel gently let his tongue enter his best friend's mouth.

As he licked the roof of Dean's mouth, Dean pulled back slightly, gasping. Castiel panicked, remembering where they were, and realising that Dean probably hated him now.

"None of the other hallucinations did that," Dean let out hoarsely, his face inches from Castiel's own.

"That's because _I. Am. Real,"_ Castiel said, and it was as if the room thrummed with power for a brief moment.

"You're…you're real?" Dean stared at him with new wonder.

"Very much so"

Dean's face collapsed as he finally allowed himself to sob. Castiel, shocked by this sudden change, pulled Dean into his arms instinctively, cradling him. Dean clutched at his friend, sobbing into his shoulder and winding his arms fiercely around him as if he would never let go.

"You kissed me," he cried into the shoulder that was before him. "I always wanted…never got…..too good for me….so long…"

Castiel held him even closer.

"Of course I did, Dean. I have been in love with you for longer than I can remember, perhaps from the moment we met. And before we take this discussion any further, I feel it would be prudent for us to leave. _Now_."

* * *

The corridor was dark, damp, empty, and silent. A head of dark, messy hair peered out the door of one of the cells, then pulled back in quickly. A gravelly voice was heard hissing '_clear'_, and the two men made their way out of the cell, Dean leaning heavily on Castiel, who had one arm braced around the taller man's shoulders.

They stumbled down the corridor, Dean still wincing from the torture he had been put through. Short swords were grasped loosely by the hands that weren't supporting one another, and both men quietly revelled in finally being able to hold one another like this, despite the circumstances.

Just as they reached the bottom of the stairs that would lead them out into the city, there was the muted sound of footsteps.

"Shit," Castiel muttered, and guards appeared both before and behind them.

"Halt! Escaped prisoner!" The guards surrounded them, and Castiel sighed. His luck could only hold so far, after all. He tightened his grip on his sword, and began to rest Dean against the cold wall. However, Dean had other ideas. He pushed Castiel away, and stood on his own, hunched over slightly from pain, but gripping his sword and facing the guards.

"Dean, what are you doing?!"

"We fight together, Cas. You saved me, I'm gonna save you."

"Real cute, guys, but seriously. Drop your weapons. We don't want to fight you, so surrender now or we'll kill you."

"Like Hell," Dean snarled, and suddenly he was launching himself forwards. Castiel followed suit, but was quickly overpowered by a man at least twice his size.

"Where do you think you're going, pretty boy?" The thug grunted, sniffing the young man's neck and baring his teeth. Castiel stared at him in horror. Then, so suddenly that Castiel would not have believed it if he had not felt the swoosh of air brushing his cheek, a blade appeared out of nowhere and sliced through the neck of the man faster than a bolt of Zeus' lightning. Castiel looked up, and Dean was standing there grinning at him, before plunging back into the fray with renewed vigour. Castiel could hardly take his eyes off the man, because he was….glowing.

A faint golden hue surrounded the Prince as he cut his way through the onslaught, giving him the strength to fight despite his wounds and protect him from the swords that were attempting to slice him to ribbons. After a good half hour, the guards lay upon the floor, either injured or dead. Dean stood at the top of the stairs proudly, and he looked at Castiel.

"Come on Cas, we-" and then he collapsed. Castiel ran up the stairs, raising him from the ground.

"Dean? DEAN!"

Dean lay in his best friends arms, gazing up at him with a soft smile.

"Am I dying, Cas?" he asked, bringing a hand round to grip the back of Castiel's neck.

"No, you are not dying. Not today Dean, not for a long time," Castiel responded, pressing his lips to Dean's forehead.

"I feel like it….that last burst of adrenaline really took it out of me, you know?"

Castiel almost cried. He had come so far, and done so much. He was not about to lose Dean. Dean was not going to die here, forgotten in some dirty back alleyway in Troy.

"Dean, come on. We're going to get out of here, but I'll need you to help me. Can you do that for me?" He said, somehow managing to keep his voice steady.

" 'course I can. For you."

* * *

They somehow made it to the water supply chute that Castiel had broken in through undetected. Just as Castiel had lowered Dean into a comfortable position, a hand landed on his shoulder. Quick as a flash, he spun round and pinned his unknown assailant against a wall, before realising who it was.

"Meg?"

* * *

**AN: I kind of suck with fight scenes, so sorry about that. Reviews are still a thing!**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Meg smiled.

"Hey, boys"

"But….how did you get out?" Castiel gasped, relaxing his grip on her and refocusing on Dean, who was near unconsciousness.

"I have my ways. Psychic, you know? Anyway, I Saw you leaving, and wanted to come with. Not to wherever in Hades you think you'll make it to," she continued, knowing what Castiel was about to say, "just until we're safe. I could use the muscle, and you could use someone who knows what's coming"

"And why should we trust you?" Dean unexpectedly grunted from where he lay.

"_You_ probably shouldn't, but do you have another choice?"

* * *

They made it to a small grove along the River Scamander, Castiel half-carrying Dean by now with Meg leading the way up ahead. She turned and smiled, but this time it was a genuine one, not the coy, sly smirks from before.

"Well, I'lll be on my way now. Good luck, you two, and thank you"

"Wait!" Castiel cried, but she was gone, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

_What IS she? _He wondered, but was forced to push that thought aside as Dean groaned.

"Dean, are you alright? Where does it hurt?" Castiel asked frantically, laying him down so he could kneel beside him and check.

"Everywhere, Cas. Everywhere hurts. Just…just hold me, please. Don't wanna be alone when I…you know, go. Take care of Sammy for me, will ya?"

"Dean, what did I tell you? You aren't dying!" Castiel choked out, but he lay beside Dean and held him close, not knowing what else to do.

"Alright, that's enough"

Castiel jerked upright at the sound of a new voice.

"Who are you?"

A beautiful woman stood over them, smiling. Castiel took in her appearance, seeing how her face seemed to attempt to shift into different forms of beauty but retained its look, with green sparkling eyes, soft lips, and blonde hair.

_She looks like Dean,_ he realised. The woman, as if guessing his thoughts, smiled even more widely.

"Hello, Castiel"

And Castiel knew who she was.

"Hello, Aphrodite"

* * *

Dean drifted in and out of a waking dream, grounding himself with the feel of Castiel finally lying in his arms. Pain shot through him in waves from the deep lacerations across his back and torso, and he wondered how long it would take for him to die. How long it would take until he passed into the Underworld, where he would most likely never find Castiel in the millions that wandered in the Fields of Asphodel.

_Will I even remember him? Will he remember me?_ He asked himself, recalling the tales Castiel's mother had told them of the River Lethe, which ran through the Underworld and was the first water thirsty spirits came across. Drinking from it wiped your memories, and each spirit was either too thirsty or too eager to forget their pain that they drank.

The pain he felt at losing Castiel, at dying and having the memory of him wiped forever, hurt more than the physical wounds given to him by Alastair.

As if from a great distance, he felt a cool hand pass across his forehead, and he slowly came back into himself, hearing a voice that he had not heard since childhood.

"Dean, wake up sweetie"

He opened his eyes.

"Mother?"

* * *

Castiel didn't remove his grip from Dean, tightening a hand around the man's broad shoulder.

"Is that all? You're just going to heal him and leave? Again?!" He wanted to shout, but knew that if he did they would be discovered.

Aphrodite looked at him sadly.

"I left for a reason the last time. I am an immortal goddess – which you would do well to remember – and Ioannes a mortal. I could not stand to stay as he grew old and died, and I knew that I would break both his and the boys' hearts sooner or later. I am the goddess of love, you know. I have had more than one lover, and I am married to Hephaestus. Who, by the way, is not very happy about my presence here."

She leaned down and brushed Dean's forehead.

"Dean, wake up sweetie"

Dean opened his eyes, and looked at the face that had not aged since he last saw her, almost two decades ago.

"Mother?"

"Dean, she healed you," Castiel said to him gently. "Meet your mother, Aphrodite."

Dean stared at him, then back at his mother.

"Well, she didn't heal all of me. My shoulder hurts like a….." his voice trailed off as he and Castiel stared at the handprint that was seared into his shoulder. A handprint that perfectly matched the outline of the hand that Castiel had just been using to grip him so tightly just a few minutes before. Wordlessly, the two men looked at the goddess.

"I thought it appropriate, given your bond and the lengths you two have gone for one another. How do you think you were able to fight past all those guards?"

"That was you?"

"My blessing. I have been there throughout your entire life, Dean. I have watched as you and Castiel fell in love, as you fought for each other, as you stayed with one another through this bloodbath, never giving up on one another. That blessing back there wasn't even intentional – you were protected by the strength of your love for your family and for Castiel, and your determination to sacrifice yourself for them."

Castiel placed his hand over the mark on Dean's shoulder, and Dean put his hand over Castiel's, holding it in place and smiling at him before turning his head back to his mother.

"That's real shittput his hand over Castiel's, holding it in place and smiling at him before turning his head back to his mother.

"That's real shitty parenting, you know that? You left me and Sammy – who, by the way, has _superpowers_ that scare the crap outta everyone – and Father by ourselves. I practically raised Sam while Father ruled the country and never had time for us. Father blames us for you leaving, and all you can do, after almost twenty years, is say how you've been watching the whole time? Nevermind the fact that this whole war was started by you anyway, promising a married woman to some kid who wasn't even an acknowledged Prince!"

Dean was out of breath, and Castiel looked nervously between Dean and Aphrodite, who looked ashamed.

"I never wanted for this to happen, Dean. I wish more than anything that I could have been a human, and loved your father like he loves me. But it could never happen, and it is far too late to change that now. I am sorry, my son"

"Oh shut up for once, will you?"

A man stood in the clearing, smirking. He wore a winged helmet and sandals, and had clear blue eyes and messy black hair.

"Hermes," Aphrodite's tone shifted to annoyance.

"Just wanted to see my son and tell him how awesome he is!" Hermes winked at Castiel, who growled.

"Couldn't have told me that sooner, _Father_?"

The god had the grace to look abashed.

"I am the god of thieves, you know"

"And messages! How about, I don't know, contacting me when I was a child?"

"…..I can't explain it, Castiel. I just know that being a parent is not what I am born for. Had I had a hand in your upbringing, you would be a thief or dead, and your mother has done a fine job of raising you into someone I am proud to call my son. I am sorry, but that's how it must be. You won't see me again, but know that I have tried to protect you as best I can. I gave you safe passage in and out of Troy. I sent Hecate to guide you."

"Wait, Hecate?" Dean interjected. "We didn't meet her"

"You didn't think Megara was her real name, did you?"

They let the information sink in as the two gods exchanged glances. So, Meg had in fact been the goddess of magic. Figures.

"We don't have much time," Aphrodite explained. "I have another son in Troy to assist-"

"ANOTHER son?!" Dean cried out.

"His name is Aeneas, and he is a Prince of Troy, like you are also a Prince, Dean. But his destiny is not your concern. We can provide safe passage to you both, far away from here, where they will not find you and kill you. The Greeks will assume you dead, and the Trojans will never have heard of you. You will live long and happy lives with one another. But you will never be able to return home. It is this or rejoin the Greek army. What do you choose?

Dean and Castiel looked at one another.

* * *

**AN: This was kind of hurried. I might rewrite it but it's like...I don't know how? Whatever, I'll just leave it as it is unless someone tells me how it could be improved.**


	5. Chapter 5Epilogue

**AN: THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER. Hope you're still reading! **

* * *

Chapter 5/Epilogue

_Ten Years Later_

They were not there to witness the death of Hector, and Achilles' brutal desecration of the body that the warrior had left behind. They were not there to see the death of the golden-armoured soldier that was not a week later, taken down by an arrow from Paris' bow in the heel, his one weak spot. They were not there to see the construction of the wooden horse, nor the fall of the once magnificent city of Troy. They heard the tales though, and the stories of the mighty Odysseus and his wanderings. The tales grew wider and wider with the telling, and as Dean constantly told Castiel: "Poor bastards in heroic tales can't catch a break".

They wrote to Samuel, letting him know what had happened and why they could not return. If it was found that they were not actually dead, they would be executed. Sam understood, even if it hurt that his brother and friend could never come home. Ioannes believed them dead, and if he found out the truth he would most likely 'do the right thing'.

After the death of Ioannes, Sam became King, and once a month, for a couple of days, he disappeared from his kingdom, leaving his Queen (a lovely blonde girl named Jessica) in charge.

* * *

On a small island in the middle of the Mediterranean, one that was never visited by any city or state, there was a tiny fishing village. It was in the main bay of the island, which was mostly comprised of sheer cliff faces and green pastures. This village was the only village, and a few miles outside of it, there was a cottage. Not anything special, or memorable, just a cottage. Anyone who decided to do the 10 mile trek out of the isolated village would dismiss it, knowing that the two men who lived there preferred their privacy and the company of one another.

The sun rose in the east, casting his light across the island and painting the walls within the cottage a soft, rosy hue. Inside, Dean rolled over in bed, smiling at the face he found next to him.

"Morning," he whispered, kissing Castiel softly on the forehead. Castiel smiled, his blue eyes meeting green.

"Up before noon? This is a surprise," he murmured back. Dean pouted, before letting a small smile slide onto his face and leaning down to kiss Castiel on the mouth.

Castiel moaned into the kiss, pulling Dean down so that the man was lying on top of him. He felt Dean smirk against his mouth, and moved so that he and Dean were nose to nose.

"_This_ is why you're up early?" he asked. Dean shifted so that Castiel could feel his hardened length press against him. The smaller man groaned from sudden arousal, and suddenly his need matched Dean's own. He rolled, now on top of Dean, and kissed him fiercely, rolling his hips so that Dean could feel exactly how hard he was. Dean gasped, his grip on Castiel's hips tightening, and he kissed Castiel back, tongue gently but firmly entering his mouth. They moved together, already naked, cocks rubbing together with a friction that pushed Castiel closer and closer to the edge. Dean's hands were everywhere, Castiel's shoulders, back, and then tangling deeply in the dark locks as he kissed him even harder. Castiel pulled back, a small whimper being elicited from the both of them.

"Dean," he gasped between kisses, "Need you…inside me…now!"

Dean growled and ran his hands up and down Castiel's back, before lightly stroking him across his backside.

"Gods above, Cas, but you're beautiful," he whispered fervently, staring up at him as his face contorted with pleasure. He kissed Castiel's neck, nibbling the flesh that he found there. He kissed and nibbled and sucked until there was a dark bruise there, and Castiel was a writhing mess above him.

"Dean…_.now"_

"Okay, Cas," Dean breathed, gently turning them over so that he was positioned above Castiel. He continued to kiss Castiel's neck, going further and further down the man's torso until finally, finally, he was resting with his mouth over Castiel's cock. His breath ghosted across the flesh, and he placed a small kiss on Castiel's member, before taking it within his mouth.

Castiel gasped, overcome with the feeling of Dean's mouth around him, and his back arched as he moaned. Dean licked up the shaft, and gently probed the slit before swirling his tongue around the tip and dipping his head down for more.

"Dean….please…gods….I….I'm gonna…."

Dean lifted his head and removed his mouth from where it was worshiping Castiel before smiling at the blue eyed man, eyes full of adoration.

"What do you want, Cas? Tell me"

"Fuck me, Dean. _Now_"

Dean nodded, his pupils blown so wide with lust now that there was only a small ring of bright green around the edges. He crawled back up the bed, kissing Castiel and adjusting his body so that Castiel's lower back was on a cushion, giving Dean easier access.

"Gonna make you feel real good, Cas," he breathed as he coated his finger in golden oil, noting how Castiel's breath hitched with anticipation and his cock began to leak pre-come. Slowly, he reached around to the fleshy mounds of Castiel's ass, stifling his own moans of need as he tenderly pushed a finger in.

Castiel was a mess, squirming with an almost savage delight and pushing himself further down onto Dean's finger.

"More, Dean!" he begged, hips bucking from anticipation and sheer _want_.

"Not gonna last much longer if you keep this up," Dean muttered, and added a second finger. Castiel keened and his hands clutched at the bed beneath, struggling to maintain his composure and not come then and there. Dean's fingers brushed the nub of nerves inside Castiel, and the man let out the most animalistic noise Dean had ever heard, before reaching around and tugging on Dean's hand.

"Enough, Dean. Want your cock inside me, _please_"

Dean couldn't refuse a request like that. He ensured that Castiel's hole was properly slicked up, before getting more oil and coating his leaking erection thoroughly. He lined himself up, and slowly, torturously began to push his way inside of Castiel.

Castiel shook and sighed from the feel of Dean entering him at an agonisingly slow pace. He grasped Dean's chin, forcing the man to look up, and kissed him passionately. The kiss became more frantic as Dean bottomed out, tongues sliding everywhere between hot and heavy sighs.

They took a second to adjust to the feeling, before Castiel choked out, "Dean, _move._"

Dean obliged, and began to thrust in and out of Castiel. He grunted hoarsely as the feeling of Castiel surrounding him threatened to make him come early, but he resisted, focusing on the breathy gasps that were escaping the gorgeous, debauched man beneath him. Dean placed his hands either side of Castiel's face, looking straight into his eyes as he fucked him into the mattress. Castiel reached up and wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, kissing him with the same fire that still burned through them after ten years of being together.

Steadily, with much silent urging from Castiel, his thrusts became faster and heavier, and he hit Castiel's prostate almost every time. Castiel felt a pull in his gut, and managed to cry against Dean's mouth.

"Dean, I'm almost there!"

"That's okay, you can come for me. I got you, Cas" Dean groaned, unable to suppress his own noises of pleasure.

At these words, Castiel's vision whited out, and he was only aware of the feel of Dean inside him and all around him as he came all over his stomach, untouched. Dean, feeling Castiel clench around him and seeing his completely blissed out face, followed suit, pounding into the slightly smaller man throughout both their orgasms and filling him with his seed.

They lay there for what felt like hours, Dean panting with his face in Castiel's neck, and Castiel with his legs still locked around Dean's thighs. Dean slowly stirred, placing kisses along Castiel's jawline as he leisurely pulled out of Castiel. Once he had wiped away most of the mess, he lay down next to his lover, who was still staring up at the ceiling and completely unable to move from the force of what they had just shared.

"Castiel, I love you so damn much," Dean whispered, pulling Castiel to him and curling around him so that his head rested on Castiel's lean chest. Castiel smiled, eyes stinging with tears of joy as he rested his arms around Dean – the Adonis of a man who had chosen him of all people to love – and spoke softly, "I love you too, Dean".

A sly smile graced Dean's face and he looked up at Castiel, meeting the sea blue eyes that he had loved since he was a boy.

"Let's sleep in for a bit, I'm kinda beat"

Castiel snorted quietly, shuffling so that he was more comfortably positioned against Dean, and gazed at the man that he would follow to the ends of the earth.

"Fine. But you get to walk into town for supplies tomorrow"

They smiled at one another and drifted off to sleep, knowing that Castiel would accompany Dean anyway.

THE END.

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**AN: And there you go. That's the first proper smut I've ever written, so please tell me how I did please. And I may have giggled at the oil thing. I'm 18, shut up. But yeah, I kind of wanted them to go back to the war but I also knew they'd most likely go all Achilles and die gloriously in battle. So my little headcanon is that they grew old and died in each other's arms and that romantic bullshit and when they got to the Underworld they were able to keep each other from not forgetting who they were before they got to Elysium**

**Wait.**

**I'm the writer**

**My headcanon is canon!**

**But yeah, lemme know what you think because that would be great, I like knowing what I can improve on. And check out the other shit I've written!**

**Thanks for reading!**


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